


Can't Live With 'em, Can't Live Without 'em

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-18 04:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5899126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The outlaw life is hard on the body, horses, and sometimes just plain hard...this is a two part story that highlights how the two of them overcome problems and understand each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Can't Live With 'em, Can't Live Without 'em: part one  
by Wichita Red

“Heyes, watch out?”

Staying two jumps ahead of a posse tended to strain Hannibal Heyes’ nerves. So, when his partner's voice echoed back to him; his first thought was, 'they've found us.' However, when he looked up, what he saw instead made his eyes bulge like a tromped on frog. 

Rumbling toward him was an avalanche of dirt and rock, which made his thoughts of the posse pleasurable in comparison. 

“Hell-fire” Heyes gulped, jerking his calico mare across the face of the slope. As he did so, a part of him wondered, if praying might genuinely help a man in a situation such as this. 

Through the years, Heyes had heard plenty of camp talk of men being buried by rockslides. Sometimes so deep, all that could be done was to place a cross and say a few kind words. Seeing how the boulders plowing by him were getting larger and in their wake, almost humorously, followed by a good-sized collection rocks; Heyes found himself thinking, 'this is not how, I planned on cashing in my chips.' 

Truth be told, it rubbed his pride to think this might be the ending written in history books for the great Hannibal Heyes; the most notorious bank and train robber west of the Mississippi. Not that he had put a lot of time into picturing his demise. Yet, he felt positive, it should involve a pretty and sympathetic lady or at least something heroic. Definitely, not being buried beneath a ton of granite and chalk. 

Unable to escape, he forced his mare against the tree line. The little calico danced, whickering on the edge of panic. Still, Heyes kept after her, pushing her in as tight as he could. He hoped in doing so, they would be clear of the crashing, crushing river of debris that had caught up to them. As it roared past, he ducked his head, in what he would later have to admit to himself was fear. 

A bone-chilling scream over-rode all the noise and Heyes' head popped up. Gravel peppered his face, dust clouding his vision. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears, his pulse rising up in his throat, and a vinegary taste filled his mouth; wringing from him a stream of curse words that could sizzle bacon. 

Then the scream repeated itself, the sound of it, enough to make a strong man cringe. Heyes twisted in his saddle trying to see, more curses flowing from him. The moment the flood ebbed, he loosened his grip the mare. She danced, her front hooves rising off the ground and he spun her in tight, mincing circles forcing her to release the nervous energy she had built up. Anxious himself and unable to wait for her to settle, her turned out onto the slope. 

Out in the field of rubble, it was plain Kid had never regained control of his mount. The Bay's deep-rutted trail easier to read than a greenhorn trying to hide a sleeve gun. Not wanting to believe his tracking skills, Heyes' dark eyes flitted back and forth; till he knew what he was seeing was true and then beads of sweat began rolling down his pale face. 'If Kid's horse went down wrong side up, where was he during all the action? Hell, Kid could be anywhere under these rocks.' 

Heyes scrubbed at his face and knocked his hat from his head; so it hung down his back by the stampede strings. Standing in his stirrups to scan the area, he thought, 'Kid's tougher than a sow’s snout, ain't no way he’d lose out to a pile of rocks.' Then, leaning forward, he shouted, "Kid?"

Nothing.

Heyes felt cold even as sweat dripped from his jaw line, “KID!” 

Nothing. 

No man understands fear, until he has someone else to look after. And, right now, the deafening silence was laying out a cold, hard lesson in fear for Hannibal Heyes. His control crumbling, he screamed, "JEDEDIAH!!" His partner's Christian name rang down the slope and out across the valley, even louder than the previous calls. 

“Quit your hollering,” came a sharp reply, from somewhere below, "I hear you, as does anyone in a mile radius." 

At that moment the wind chose to shift, carrying the cloud of dust with it and leaving behind Jedediah "Kid" Curry, the fastest gunslinger in the West, most likely in the world and Heyes' only living relative. 

Seeing him, Heyes released a jubilant whoop and a smile that crinkled up his face, lighting up his eyes until they appeared to sparkle. For not more than thirty feet from him stood his cousin, looking very much the part of a defeated warrior. His hat was missing, sheepskin coat torn at the shoulder, holster skid barren, and there was none of him that was not coated with white dust. But, he was standing. Standing and grinning, with the grin of a man who knew he was right, and would be able to live off the justice of being right, for some time. 

“Told you that incline was too steep and soft for the horses.” Kid said playfully, feeling of the goose-egg rising up on the back of his head; full well knowing, how lucky he was his horse had only nicked him when the animal had flipped end-for-end. 

“If you were so sure..." Heyes tipped his head toward the embankment, "...why did you choose to go first?”

Kid licked his lips, placing his hands on his hips, his smile growing larger. “If I'd let you reach that top first and you found need of your pistol...we both know you can’t hit the broad side of a barn with a handful of banjos.”

“Come on, Kid, I ain’t that bad.” Heyes whined, as he only allowed himself to do when alone with his cousin. 

And, as usual in these situations, Kid just laughed and shook his head.

“You hurt bad?” 

“Nope, but we get to ride double for a while.” Kid said, gesturing toward his horse limping about the grassy edge of the incline. 

The same incline, Heyes knew he would be forced to admit, repeatedly, was too steep. Pulling his bandana from around his neck, Heyes set to wiping off his face. As he did so, he smiled knowing this whole wreck would give Kid loads of ammo to complain about. There was no way he would ever let Kid know. But, he enjoyed listening to his partner's belly-aching. Perhaps because, he had heard it for so long, that it was comforting and he would not know how to get by, without hearing a bit of Kid's cantankerousness each day. 

Knowing it was, as the saying went, 'time to face the music', Heyes tied his bandana background his neck and nudged his mare. The calico snorted and lowering her head, she placed her hooves among the jagged rocks deftly choosing a route down. They were almost to the bottom, when Heyes spotted a glint of metal that he knew, would prove to be Kid’s pistol. 

“Whoa girl, easy," he cooed, and dallying his long-split reins about the saddle horn, he slid off, patting the mare’s rump, sending her rest of the way without him; as he went to retrieve his partner’s gun. 

“Dang it, Bay's going to need weeks of rest before he can be ridden."

Hopping from one boulder to the next, Heyes made his way on down, handing the Peacemaker over with his attention actually focused on Kid's horse. “Easy...easy big boy." Heyes said, jerking off his gloves to run an expert hands down the horse’s near hock, only to find what he feared. The animal's cannon bone was hot and swollen. Closing his eyes for a moment, Heyes bit the inside of his lower lip in frustration and then began working the cinch strap knot. 'Damn, this Bay has been a good match for Kid. Yeah, he's kind of ugly and raw-boned but he'll travel miles on just a bait of range grass and a hat full of water.' 

Pulling the saddle, Heyes noticed it was missing a stirrup and wondered again, how Kid managed to come out of the wreck unscathed. Dropping the saddle, Heyes used the blanket to rub the gelding down. 'We’ve been free of that posse less than a day and we've strayed too damn far from the Hole trying to lose 'em. Now, here were are with one horse between us. And, the horse to carry both of us...is my calico. The same horse, Kid's been ridin' me to trade in for a bigger, stronger mount.' Putting his hands on his hips, Heyes eyed his mare. 'He's right. But, I like that little mustang. She’s got heart and speed, but she sure as hell ain't built to carry us riding double. Looks to be we’ll be taking turns walking.' 

Running a hand up the gelding's neck, Heyes pulled off the bridle. 'Bay's been with us for almost two years, long time for one of our mounts.' Lost in thought, he scratched the gelding between its jaw bones, trying to figure out where Kid’s next mount might come from. Some part of his mind, registered hearing the click of the Colt's chamber, followed by the familiar sound of it spinning; so when the crack of the .45 firing, echoed across the canyon, Heyes was not taken aback none. He looked over at his cousin who appeared reborn in his warrior image, as he spun the Colt back into its holster. “Did it fare out all right?”

“Nothing a bit of oil wouldn’t help.”

“Hey Kid, how’d you come down that incline anyways?” 

“Right behind him,” Kid gestured over at his horse.

One dark eyebrow arched sharply, 'wouldn't behind him, be where his hooves were at?'

“You ever tried to run slow down a hill?” 

“Not that I can recollect.”

“Well, a set of shod hooves flashing at you, like the backside of a paddle wheel, can sure teach you the knack of it real quick.” Kid answered. 

"This ain't a skill you plan on perfecting, is it?" Heyes asked, through a laughing smile. 

Kid's blue eyes sparkled, but he refused to be teased into smiling. Sure, he felt like smiling. Felt as happy as a man holding a royal flush that he had made it down that hill alive. Hell, made it down alive and without being beaten to a pulp. Still, he was determined to hold onto his anger at Heyes. Because it was Heyes' fault that he had to come down that hill the hard way. Heyes and all his ‘Trust me, Kid’. Thinking this over, the blue eyes narrowed, "the next time I say, it's too steep...we go around” 

Heyes' smile grew bigger. He knew that would annoy Kid more than anything else he could do. Somewhere back when they were still boys, Heyes had learned to choose his battles against his quick-tempered cousin and this one here, was not worth butting heads over. 

ASJ--------------------ASJ------------------ASJ

Leaning across the back of his mare, Heyes peered through the spyglass, weighing the risks of purchasing a horse from the cattle drive spread out below them. “What do you think, Kid?” 

“I think, I’m tired of hauling my own saddlebags and even more, tired of walking.”

Heyes knew grumbling was part of Kid's nature. But, after two days of sharing one saddle, Heyes found his patience was dwindling. Chewing on his lower lip, he wondered again, if the men below might have been warned that a pair of outlaws might come looking for a horse. 

"Well, Heyes?!"

Heyes' eyes slanted to Kid, 'course, we don't find him a horse, his chances of walking rest of the way back to the Hole by himself are pretty damn good. 'Specially, if I have to hear about that incline or how small my mare is one more time.'

“Heyes we going down there to get me a horse or ain’t we?” Kid snarled. Hearing himself, he realized how aggressive he sounded and with a snort, thought, 'Why shouldn't I be? It's his fault I'm tired, hungry, and foot-sore. And, besides that, I don't give a donkey's ass how highly he thinks of that damn small mare of his. He needs to listen to me...for once...and trade that pony in for a real horse.' Pulling off his hat, Kid trailed his fingers along the back of his head, the goose egg was beginning to disappear. "I can't figure out why, he fancies her so much, anyhow?" Gingerly adjusting his hat back on, Kid threw back his shoulders, "Come on Heyes, how hard of a decision is it, to go down and buy me a horse?"

Heyes spun his nostrils flaring, his shoulders raising, but it was the cold, sharp, bark of his voice that hit Kid. “Fine! You want to go down there. You want to risk our chances that the posse hasn’t talked to the drive boss? Then let's go!” And, grabbing his mare's reins, Heyes tromped down the hill. But, then he stopped to glare and holler while jabbing a thumb toward his horse. “And, just so you know, she’s a light horse, not a runt. Not a pony and not worthless, so let up on her” 

Kid stayed put, watching his partner kick dirt clods out of his way while muttering to himself; with his mare nudging him in the back as if she agreed with all he was saying. Finding he was staring open-mouthed, Kid snapped it shut. Then with a shake of his head, ambled on down the hill, thinking, 'wouldn't have thought poking at that runt, would rile 'em up so.'

The walk gave Heyes the time he needed to release some of the steam coming to a boil inside of him and by the time he was within hailing distance of the herd, he was on his second go around of singing 'Simple Gifts'. He also found he felt prepared to take on any surprises that wanted to present themselves. Particularly since, he could hear his cousin’s steady, strong strides following right behind him. 

Halting and leaning against his mare, Heyes watched the rider angling toward them on the bandy-legged dun. His dark eyes strayed from the man to the herd of longhorns plodding along, 'looks to be at least 1500 of 'em,' he thought. But, more than the herd, he was counting the men, 'pair on point, two riding swing, two working flank, three unlucky souls on drag, most likely a horse wrangler, cook, drive boss and with this outrider...that makes thirteen.' A nervous flutter ran through Heyes' making his voice quaver as he finished the last bar of his song.

“Yeah, I know, thirteen." Kid said, patting Heyes on the shoulder, just as the outrider pulled dun up next to them. "Quit being superstitious.”


	2. Can't Live With'em, Can't Live Without'em: Part TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kid shows Heyes something new

Can't Live With 'em, Can't Live Without 'em: part two  
by Wichita Red

“Ya look to be a horse short,” the rider said, his words sounding as smug as the expression he wore. "I find walkin’ in this country about as useful as setting a bucket under a bull.” His clear, blue eyes went to Heyes and then to Curry, seeing Kid's Peacemaker, he shifted the spanking new Colt Frontier lying prominently across the pommel of his saddle. Drawing up alongside, Heyes and Curry, the sun lit up his face illuminating how young he was, right down to the freckles splattered across his cheeks. “I reckon, y'all don’t appear to be rustlers and if’n ya is...ya sure ain’t well prepared ones.”

Kid’s eyes narrowed and Heyes did not need to look his way, to know how his cousin was taking the boy's sarcastic disrespect. Stepping forward, with a large, bright smile Heyes offered his hand, all the while blocking Kid from view. “Yuse sure, is right there, yuse are. Names Grabs, Greg Grabs and this here sorry soul is my pardoner Bartholomew Lead." Heyes said merrily, all the while working the boy's hand so furiously, the boy nudged his horse over to escape Heyes' enthusiasm. "What a name his Mama hung on him, heh? We 'uns all call 'em, Bart.”   
Throwing a grin to his partner, Heyes went on in the twangy speech he had adopted, “I tell yuse we’re pleased as a lil’ heifer with a new fence post over seenin’ the bunch of yuse.”

With an, almost, inaudible groan, Kid lowered his head to rub a hand across his face, 'Why does he do this to me?' Looking up, he passed the boy a half-hearted smile, 'wish Heyes would give me notice before rolling into his cracked characters.' 

Enjoying himself, Heyes pushed his hat back, his smile having reached all the way to his eyes, "why if’n yuse drive boss is willin’, we sure would like to part with some of our roll for a new hoss.” Stepping forward, Heyes whispered loudly, “I tell yuse, all his weight sittin' on my lil' gal's tailbone...well its wearin' her down to nothing better than a squaw's pony. Anyways we been walkin' and walkin' for days. See, his hoss took a fall, yuse might be thinkin' that were 'cause he wore it down. But, that weren't so. No, he had himself a right big gent. That dang hoss was just too clumsy for its own good, yuse could say. Ever hear of such a hoss?” 

The boy was sitting casual in his saddle and with a shake of his head, a gusty laugh rippled up out of him, “shoot Greg, ya run on faster than my great-uncle and let me tell ya, he can really set a person back. My names Frankie, come on in and I'll let my boss know who you are."

“Why thanks yuse kindly, Frankie, thanks yuse.” Heyes had sauntered close enough to lay a friendly hand on Frankie's horse, "what handle does yuse boss man go by?"

"John Heslin, you know him?"

Heyes glanced back at his partner who ever so slightly shook his head, "Nope, do nots believe we does. Gonna be a pleasure meetin' a new gent, sure is."

Touching a finger to the brim of his hat, Frankie spun the dun and with a final look tore off like he had been rattler struck for the chuck wagon. 

Wearing a lopsided grin, Heyes said, "Looks like we might be in luck."

“Long as you don’t say 'trust me' then I’ll continue feeling just fine about this situation.”

Seeing the wounded look that fell into place on Heyes' face, Kid barked out a laugh, and slapping his partner across the shoulder began walking toward the men gathering to watch them. 

ASJ----------------ASJ-------------------ASJ

A tall, hard man with a bushy handlebar mustache called out, “who are they?”

“They call themselves, Greg Grams and Bart Lead." Frankie answered, swinging down, and leading his cowpony to the water barrel. “They want to purchase a horse, I told 'em that was up to ya.”

John Heslin dug out a Durham bag and set to rolling himself a quirley, while keeping an eye on the approaching men. To his way of thinking, they didn't appear to be cowhands. The thinner one, looked like he would be more at home behind a poker table than most anywhere else. The other one, he bothered John, he gave off a hint of danger, a man would be best to take note of. 

Popping the quirley into his mouth, John lit it, tossing away the used up match before dropping into a squat and resting back on his haunches. When the pair of strangers pulled up before him, his leathered face showed not one sign of emotion. Taking a final drag of his quirley, John Heslin rose to his full height; a trick of intimidation he had learned long ago, as he stood half again taller than most, and that went for these two also.

Heyes' dark eyes trailed all the way up to John's hard set jaw and with an equally hard glint in his eyes, Kid stepped a touch in front of his pal. 

Staring down on their wary faces and tied-down holsters, John thought, 'yup, they ain't cowhands that's for sure,' Tossing his smoke to the ground, he demolished it beneath the toe of his boot. 

"Yuse must be the Mister Heslin, Frankie spoke of." Heyes stated, putting forth a charmer's smile along with his hand. 

John Heslin looked at the offered hand and hitched his thumbs in the pockets of his vest, "I am." 

Heyes' fingers curled, rubbing once across his palm and working to hold the smile in place, he pulled his own hand back to rest on his belt buckle. 

Heslin's deep-creased eyes ran up-and-down Heyes, “You Grams or Lead?” 

“Neither, names Grabs,” Heyes replied, trying to read the man before him. 'He looks to have spent his life on the back of a horse. Betting he's not the type to warm to any sort of silver-tongue blarney.' Then with a nod, Heyes rested a hand on Kid's shoulder, “We 'uns were rushin’ ourselves home, when Bart’s bay took a fall. After that, well, poor hoss weren't fit for ridin’. We been walking the soles off our boots and I just can't say how much we'd appreciate buyin' a hoss.” 

"That so," John grunted just as a white-haired man with a whispy beard stepped up, tapping the boss man on the arm. Leaning over, John allowed the older man to whisper to him and whatever the old-timer said, raised a snort from Heslin. Straightening, he released a smile at Heyes and Curry that would make a riverboat gambler nervous. “Frosty says, he’s got a mare, he’d be willing to let go. You want her roped in Lead?”

Kid looked to Heyes, expecting him to answer in the hideous afflicted speech he had conjured up, when with a jolt he recalled he was Lead and stammered out, "would appreciate it.” 

“Frankie climb your worthless self, back on that dun, and go rope up the grullo," Heslin ordered.

“While we wait, yuse mind if’n my calico has a drink out of yuse barrel.” 

“Go ahead,” Heslin replied, stepping around the chuck wagon to watch Frankie.

Before the calico had finished sucking down water, the boy had the mare caught and was bringing her in. But, a point bothered Heyes, actually two. First, the cattle had fallen to grazing as the hands drifted to the wagon. Second, he felt in his bones Heslin was fixing to double-cross them. And, walking back to Kid, who was looking the mare over, Heyes felt even more sure something was wrong. 

The grullo mare stood over seventeen hands, deep, wide chest with a good-looking, smart head. Truthfully, she was beautiful, a perfect mouse-blue with black clay marks on her legs and back. 

Edging closer to his partner, Heyes hissed, “something ain't right here."

Kid's teeth ran across his lower lip, working to restrain a smile he felt swirling up. 

Heyes nudged Kid, "she must be an outlaw."

“Takes one to know one.” Kid replied, winking at his partner in crime as he pulled his gloves tighter and checked the tie-down on his Colt. “'Sides, when was the last time you saw me unable to handle a horse?”

A mocking smile split Heyes' face in two and as he opened his mouth to speak, Kid grunted, "don't bother...'cause, I tell you now partner, we're buying this mare.”

Before Heyes could retort, Frosty walked up to throw a saddle on the grullo mare. 

Worrying at the inside of his lower lip, Heyes' eyes remained locked on Kid who was leaning back in his heels with his arms crossed, watching every move the grullo made. 

The mare never flinched, took the bit with ease while remaining loose in her knees. 

Finished, Frosty extended the reins with his face beaming like a boy who had just got his first kiss. 

Taking the split-reins, Kid eyed the old wrangler, determined not to let the man's evident enthusiasm rile him, “she got a name?”

“Yeah, we call her Zebra, on account of her striped legs.” Frosty answered, covering his mouth like he was coughing but Kid suspected, he was laughing.

“Hello Zebra." Kid said softly, wrapping a hand about the mare's muzzle and scratching her between the jaw bones. "All right girl, don't make a fool of me," and taking a breath, he grabbed a handful of her long, cream colored mane and swung aboard, expecting her to explode sky high.

She merely twitched an ear and exhaled. 

Kid frowned, cautiously he adjusted his hold on the reins and his seat in the saddle. 

Zebra turned her head, blinking dolefully at him.

Kid's head tilted to the side and he wiggled about, better setting his feet in the stirrups. 

Zebra, she, remained perfectly still. 

Releasing the breath he had not realized he was holding, Kid turned to flash Heyes a smile that was full of boyhood dreams. No sooner did his weight and attention switch then the grullo launched herself off the dirt. Her hindquarters twisted out till they nearly touched her forehead and before Kid Curry knew what was what, he was flying from her back.

Laying face down in the dirt, Kid thought, 'damn, she slammed me so hard, feels like my ribs are stove in.' Taking a slow inhale, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. To make matters worse, when he raised his head, that mare was right there looking him in the eyes, and with a snort she nudged him; as if daring him to try again. 

Staring back at her, it came to Kid he could hear the cowhands laughing near to bust a gut. Rising to his feet, he flung his squashed hat around by its stampede strings; so it hung down his back rather than bouncing against his chest. Cranking his neck side-to-side, he spit a good mixture of dirt out and set his face in the coldest, 'I mean business' gunfighter expression he had before turning to face the pack of coyotes. Only to find, his own partner, enjoying himself as much as the strangers. Except as the others cowed, looking repentant beneath Kid's cold glare, Heyes kept right on snorting and grinning. Grinning so big, Kid considered flattening him. 

“Son, we also call her Zebra cause she’s so damn wily and wild,” Frosty said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “I admit, that was devilish mischief to play on you. But, I figure someday, someone is bound to catch that mare in a good mood.”

Heslin nodded at Kid, “Everyone feels same as you did once they are up on her. She's a clever mule, likes to wait 'till your guards down. Frankie, go rope in the wide-backed sorrel for this man.”

“No, that’s alright. I want her.” Kid stated, untying his holster from his leg.

“Heslin, this here hoss, she's an outlaw, ain’t she? Never been ridden by anyone.” Heyes asked, looking straight at Kid, trying to get the point across.

“Yup, we bring her along in hopes we can wear her down enough to ride someday.” Heslin shook his head, smiling admiringly at the mouse-blue mare. “God's truth, all we've achieved is making her sociable.”

Holding out his rig and hat to his cousin, Kid said, “she just ain’t met anyone as bull-headed as her. And, from what my Ma used to say, I’m about as bull-headed as they come.”

Grabbing hold of Kid's wrist, Heyes' hissed ‘I need you to watch my back. You can't do that, if your all broke up by a horse on the war path." In his worry, he let his put on accent fall away. "I'm thinking you should reconsider this.” 

Kid pulled free, shoving his gear into Heyes' arms, “Don’t worry so much, pardoner.” He drawled out, hoping Heyes would remember, he better stay in character, if he did not want to arouse suspicion. "I'll be fine," and patting his cousin's shoulder, Kid turned to find the mare following him like a stray he had fed scraps.

“Here now youngun, don't be making me feel guilty, by getting her to kill you." Frosty pleaded, he eyes shifting to Heslin to see if he would make this buck stop his foolishness. "Go on and toss in the blanket, ain't no of us been able to ride her." Seeing Heslin had no intention of stepping in, Frosty took off his hat and wrung it between his hands. “Alright I see you got your mind set. Well, that weren't her only trick, you be ready she’s a sunfishing, high-roller, and the best spinner I ever seen when she gets a going."

Taking up the reins still trailing in the dirt, Kid nodded, "thanks, now step on back." Leaning in close, he rubbed Zebra's ear, looking into her near eye, “girl, let’s do it right this time. I got a lot of miles to cover and I know you’re tired of living with cows.” 

This time soon as Zebra felt his weight hit the seat, she lifted herself a good four feet and threw in a handful of swift sunfishes and sidewinders for good measure.

Grabbing for leather, Kid screwed himself down to stick to the saddle like a postage stamp. 

Irritated he was still aboard, the grullo mare switched tactics, burying her head between her legs, she set to bucking while spinning in circles like a medicine war chief. 

Kid felt sure his chin was knocking a hole in his chest and his shoulders were coming out of their sockets. But, he also felt every ounce of his stubborn Irish grit pulsing through him, which kept telling him, 'you ain't gonna let this horse best you, are you?'

Grunting like a buffalo bull, Zebra flung her rear legs out in a series of spine jarring kicks. 

But, there was something different in how she was moving, Kid could feel it and he would swear she was wearing out. Sucking in a breath, he slammed his heels to her and she launched herself in a sunfisher twist. 

“Damned, he sure has stuck to her longest I ever seen." Heslin said, wistfully, "hell, he might ride her out." 

Heyes peeked at the man, wondering how many times Heslin had tried to best the mare and looking back to his partner, his pride swelled up. 'How is it, every time, I think, I've seen everything you can do...you go and pull off another feat that has me admiring you all the more, Kid?'

Zebra’s sides were heaving, foam flying from her but she was still a twisting and a bucking, just not as strong. 

Gambling, he had her, Kid gathered the reins in one hand, shifting his weight, he yanked her head till her nose was nearly touching his toe. Laying the tail of the reins to her rump, he kept her moving in tight circles. He was aching in places, he had never known pain before, but his face was decorated with a huge, brazen smile. 

Hannibal Heyes set his hands on his hips and shook his head, 'by God, he's done it.'

Letting go a holler the likes of which could be heard from the far ridge, Kid hurled a grin to Heyes, and turning Zebra north released her head to run. That grullo mare took off like a spooked cat, scattering spectators left and right. Before the cowhands had finished cussing, Zebra and Kid were well out on the plains and running hard.

Feeling to proud to care, Heyes let his accent drop, “How much?” 

Heslin had his ten-gallon Stetson off, scratching his head.

Frosty looked confused.

Money was being swapped as bets were tallied amongst the crew. 

“I ain’t rightly ever figured a price on her." Heslin said looking longingly after the mare and placing his hat on with a shake of his head, 'hundred and twenty." 

Digging a roll from his pocket, Heyes peeled off the bills and gathering up his calico, he climbed aboard but he could hear Frosty chuckling, "What is it old timer?"

“That lil’ hoss of yours is going to look like nothing but a shadow walking next to Zebra.”

Heyes inhaled deeply, “My gal may be small. Small as all mustangs are; but she’ll never stumble, she’s smart, and she’s got more speed than any horse ‘round here.” Then with a snort, he sucked in his lower lip, focusing on tying Kid's gear to his saddle; telling himself, informing these yahoos who he and Kid really were, would do neither of them any good. Finished, he passed out a bitter smile that never came near his eyes “So long gents, good doing business with you.” And, releasing a sharp whistle, his mare took off like a fire had been lit under her tail.

Watching them go, Frosty nodded, thinking, 'I see why he sets store in her. She has heart, man won't never have call to whip her. She'll run till her heart burst, before she gives up. Maybe that lil' Calico and Zebra will make a good team. She's lithe, smart, and loyal while Zebra's bull-headed, congenial, and quick-tempered. Somehow them two just might make a right good pair at that.'


End file.
